1 800 FANTASY
by Phantasmina
Summary: Demyx is a socially awkward college student looking for someone to talk to. Zexion works a phone sex hotline to pay for his reading habits. The two connect over a call that is less than professional. Zemyx fluff, for now.


A love story in 2-3 parts. Contains some swearing. My first time writing this pairing, and my first time writing fanfiction in a very long time, so comments would be much appreciated :)

* * *

Zexion opened his tired eyes, blinking until they became accustomed to the dim light of his dorm. He was exhausted after working late last night, and now it was time to go back to work before he started his first class.

"God damn, I swear, if I didn't need the money..." He mumbled, rising groggily from bed and moving to his computer chair, but not before banging his foot on the desk. "Ah! Stupid desk, stupid job, stupid..."

Zexion was a smart man, incredibly smart, and he had earned a full ride scholarship to the University. He had even earned a stipend, which he burned through in a matter of months. But without any money in the bank or family to beg for financial aid, he was left without a way to pay for his extensive book and music collection he was intent on up-keeping. There was also the matter of paying for food, but he didn't eat much anyway. The only answer, he realized painfully, was to get a job. And so he found one. The hours were demanding, but he was allowed the freedom to work from his dorm, and the pay was fantastic.

He set up his head set, let go a few yawns and cleared his throat, and connected to his job's call center.

"Good morning, Zexion, you sound sleepy." His boss' grating voice snapped into his ear.

"I just woke up, Larxene." He explained. He hated his boss. What a bitch.

"Well get your ass in gear, you already have a customer, and I better not catch wind of you yawning!" She hung up somewhat violently, and the call was transferred to someone new.

"H-hello?" The timid young voice of a woman asked.

"Hello gorgeous, thank you for calling Intimate Pleasures Erotic Hotline," Zexion purred his opening lines, "whatever your fantasy, I'll make it a reality."

* * *

Demyx carefully opened one eye and gazed at the clock on his bedside table. 10:30 was probably an acceptable time to get up, he decided, and began to stretch. He had already missed his first class, but he didn't care. It's not like Civics were important anyway.

He slid his legs over the side of his bed, wincing in slight pain. The concert last night was rough, his fingers were still numb and it hurt to stand on his feet, but he felt like he had never played his guitar better in his life. He'd finally crawled into his dorm bed around 3a.m.

His next class was in less than an hour, and he debated going. The only reason he had made it into such a prestigious University was because he was a participant in a government program that chose under privileged students who portrayed special talents and gave them scholarships. His grades were terrible, except in his music classes, and he rarely showed up to anything.

He wasn't stupid, he had gotten decent grades in high school, he just didn't care about anything other than his guitar. This, combined with his lack of presence in any class, meant he had very few friends. In fact, he could count them all on one hand and not even use all his fingers. He was not really close to any of them either, but if he had to pick a best friend, he might say it was Axel, the bassist in the band. They joked around during practice and even hung out and played video games once, but that was the extent of their friendship.

Demyx never had anyone to talk to, and he tried not to let it bother him and just write music instead. But, as much as he loved his guitar, it could not substitute for a real person with real opinions and arguments. He'd been feeling this way since he got to the University several months ago, but it had reached the pinnacle last night, when all the other band mates went out for beer after the concert and he was not technically invited. He realized how alone he really was, and it agitated him.

He grabbed his cell phone and lounged out on his bed, taking a business card from his bedside table. 'Intimate Pleasures: Where your fantasies become reality!' Axel had given it to him one night after a concert and told him to ask for Aqua, a spit fire of a young woman who had just enough attitude and a whole lot of sexiness. She must have been Axel's favorite.

He flipped the card over several times, debating about calling. He didn't want to physically go out and meet new people, that took too much effort, but the idea of calling a sex hotline just for a chat made him feel desperate and pathetic. Plus, he would have to pay for it.

"Come on Dem, you can do it, you'll never get anyone to talk to otherwise." He convinced himself and dialed the number.

"Hey there caller," a woman greeted him with a breathy voice, "welcome to Intimate Pleasures, where we make your fantasies a reality! My name is Larxene, and I'll be your operator for a moment."

"Okay." Was all Demyx had to say.

"Is this the first time you're using our service?"

"Yes."

"Well, congratulations, big boy, your first twenty minutes will be free today!"

"Cool."

"Now are you looking for anyone special, or do you want to be surprised?"

Demyx thought for a moment. He could ask for Aqua, like Axel suggested, but she would surely want sex and not small talk, and as much as Demyx would have liked sex, he was far more interested in conversation.

"I'll be surprised, I guess." He replied with slight enthusiasm.

"Oh, yes you will be!" Larxene gave a small, very un-sexy squeal, and Demyx wondered if he had made a big mistake. The call ended and he listened to pleasant jazz music while the call was transferred.

"Hello there", a silky voice cut through the jazz to caress Demyx's ear, "are you ready for your wildest fantasies to become real?"

"...Not really, no." Demyx answered after a moment of stagnant silence. He was definitely surprised, Larxene was right, he had not been expecting another guy. And from what he could deduce, neither could his operator, because he heard a few awkward coughs and shuffling on the other end of the line.

"Don't be nervous, everyone is always anxious for their first time. Relax." The voice commanded him, smooth and soft.

"I'm not nervous," Demyx sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I'm just feeling incredibly stupid right now."

"Don't say that, you're just skittish. Let go of all your worries and relax. Tell me about yourself, some of your likes and dislikes, kinks and such."

"Okay then, my name is Demyx. I'm a college student, I play guitar in a band, and don't really have any friends..." He paused, took a deep breath, and continued on. "I like Indian food, action movies, and writing music. I'm not a huge fan of rap music, celery, or reality t.v. My guitar's name is Linda and my favorite color is blue."

There was a short pause while the operator tried to decide what the hell was going on, Demyx reasoned.

"Demyx... That's a very sexy name." The voice purred, and Demyx felt his cheeks warm at the comment. "You seem like an interesting person, I can definitely roll with the 'Rock Star' fantasy vibe you're giving me, it could be kinky."

"I'm sorry, but that's not really what I'm here for." Demyx chimed in. The mysterious operator seemed taken aback.

"What... What exactly do you mean?" The voice seemed genuinely puzzled at his bizarre statement.

"I should have explained this earlier, but I'm not looking for phone sex," Demyx began, "I kind of just wanted someone to talk to.

There. He had said it, gotten it off his chest, and it sounded just as pathetic as he had imagined. He was not sure how the man on the other end of the line was handling this, but he figured he might as well continue with what he started. He got twenty minutes for free, after all.

"Like I said, I don't really have any friends. I'm kind of a loner 'cause I never go to any of my classes and spend most of my time playing guitar in my dorm. I feel like I have all these things I want to talk about, but no one to talk with, and this guy in my band gave me the card for this hotline. I figured... I don't know, that I could find someone to talk to." Demyx was beginning to ramble, but this was the most he had probably ever spoken with another human in one sitting. "And I don't know you or your life or anything, but you must get tired of doing phone sex all the time. I feel like it would be refreshing to just have a conversation after all that, just be yourself instead of being someone's fantasy, ya know?"

There was more silence from the other end of the line, and Demyx thought that the other man had hung up on him. Oh well, at least he had made the effort. Just as he was about to end the call, he heard a soft, but long and drawn out sigh wash over his ears.

"Okay, Demyx. We can just talk." The voice was no longer dripping with wanton sexuality, though it lost none of its luster. "I've never had this situation arise before, so I must say I am slightly surprised."

"Really, you have nothing to lose," Demyx began, "because you get paid whether we talk or do the phone sex thing."

There was a small chime of laughter from the other end of the line, and it made Demyx smile.

"I guess you're right," said the other man, "and this is quite the breath of fresh air. Now, what burning topics of conversation do you have planned?"

"I was hoping we could talk a little about music." Demyx rolled over onto his back and stared up at his ceiling, which was adorned with posters of his favorite bands and artists. "You've probably figured it out by now, but music is my life. It's a huge part of who I am, and sometimes I feel like it's the only part. It's just so beautiful in almost all forms, and each song tells its own story and... I'm rambling again, I'm sorry."

"No," the voice assured him, "don't worry about it. You have a very poetic way of speaking. Truth be told, I feel the same way about books and writing."

"I'm not much of a writer unless it's song lyrics." Demyx admitted. "And even then, I don't think it's anything special. Don't get me wrong, I love music with lyrics, but I feel like in most cases, even the most euphonous of words fails to adequately describe how I feel."

"Fascinating... Truly... How did you get started in music?"

For the first time, Demyx let the walls down, opened the floodgates, spilled all the beans. He opened up to a complete stranger more than he had opened up to everyone he had known his entire life thus far, mother and father included. The best part was that it wasn't a one-sided conversation, because if he had wanted that, he could have talked to Linda all night. The man on the other end of the line challenged him, questioned him, argued with him. He made him consider and reconsider things, on topics ranging from travel to politics to what they ate for dinner last night. Before either of them knew it, it was three hours later.

"I'm sorry, I have to go now." The other man said, and Demyx was surprised to hear the sincerity in his tone. "I honestly wish I could stay and chat longer; you are by far the most stimulating person I've talked to all week, and we didn't even have sex." Demyx chuckled at the comment and felt his cheeks warm again. "But, my schedule is not my own. It was more than pleasant chatting with you, Demyx."

"Wait!" Demyx sat upright on his bed, hoping he caught the man before he ended the call. "I didn't get a name or anything from you!" But his only answer was the dead dial tone beeping repeatedly and rhythmically in his ear. "Shit."

* * *

Zexion stared blankly ahead of him, unsure of where the last few hours had gone. He gingerly took off his headset and set it beside his computer.

"Did I actually just get paid to chat with a socially challenged stranger for three hours?" He asked himself aloud, still slightly incredulous. He took a look at his watch, and upon realizing the time, he grabbed his book bag and flew out the room.

He was tardy to his next class, the first time ever in his 13 year career as a student. However, his mind was still elsewhere, lingering on the passionate words and jingling chimes of laughter from the socially challenged stranger. From Demyx, whoever he was. Regretfully, Zexion, realized, he would never know.

* * *

Demyx packed his guitar into his case and waved goodbye to his professor. His Theory of Music class was the last of the day today, and he couldn't have been more excited to get back to his dorm and sleep. He'd had a late night, emergency band meeting when Axel got wind that some of their instruments that they kept in dorm storage had been stolen. Lucky for him, his electric guitar had been passed over, but not without all his strings being broken.

It was a stressful evening to say the least, and once again, he hadn't been able to pull himself into bed until the wee hours of the morning. However, it provided him with a useful distraction against calling the phone sex hotline again.

"Watch it!" Someone in the crowded hall shouted, breaking Demyx's line of thought, and he suddenly realized he had been walking this whole time. He ran into several people, accidentally banged Linda into some railings, and stumbled dangerously over his own feet multiple times. He practically tripped into his dorm and tossed his guitar case onto a pile of clothes.

"Sorry Linda," he sighed and face planted into his bed. It had been four days since his chat with the mysterious voice and for some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He liked talking, but only with the phone sex man. He still wasn't comfortable addressing real people.

He pulled out his phone and redialed the number for Intimate Pleasures. He didn't give two shits about the cost, he'd just skip a few meals here and there.

"Hello caller, and welcome to Intimate Pleasures, where we make your fantasies a reality!"

Demyx instantly recognized the breathy voice of the lady he'd gotten last time, Larxene.

"My name is Larxene, how may I direct you?" She asked with an overly sexed up tone.

"Hi, I don't know if you remember me from a few days ago, but I called and said it was my first time and wanted to be surprised." Demyx explained, but did not really expect her to remember. The line probably got hundreds of calls a day. He could hear her tapping something, maybe her headset, in an effort to remember.

"Oh, yes! I remember you, big boy." She giggled, but then stopped herself and continued on somewhat professionally. "What may I do for you?"

"Can you connect me to whoever you connected me to last time?"

"...Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Well... Let me see if he is working right now."

The jazz music began to serenade Demyx's ears while Larxene put the call on hold. He couldn't decide what was more desperate: the fact that he had called the hotline in the first place, or the fact that he was doing it a second time with the same hopes. He wondered why he couldn't just nut up and go talk to a real person, and was considering hanging up when the jazz music stopped.

"Why hello caller," came the greeting, smooth and cool as satin, "how may I pleasure you today?"

"Erm, hi... Again..." Demyx kind of coughed out his reply, his throat had gone dry after hearing the sensual voice.

"...Demyx?" The facade had been dropped at the recognition.

"Yes."

"I definitely did not think I would ever hear from you again."

Demyx bit his tongue. He really was pathetic. The man on the other end of the line must have realized his poor phrasing when Demyx did not respond and quickly followed up with "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant... What are the odds?"

"Well," Demyx began, but debated continuing at the risk of sounding like a lunatic, "I kind of asked for you. I asked Larxene if the person I had talked to last time was available." There was a pause, and Demyx listened to the other man's breathing; it was steady and slightly shallow. "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, I'm sure you have other customers to attend to."

"Well... I guess it won't hurt to keep them in anticipation some." The voice replied, and Demyx cracked a smile and a small chuckle.

"So it's okay if we talk right now?" He asked tentatively.

"Sure."

* * *

"Three more hours on that call?" Larxene's prying voice was dripping with bitchiness, as usual.

"Money is money." Zexion replied, spinning around in his office chair.

"That boy asked for you specifically, you know."

"I know." And Zexion could not help but feel his stomach go into knots at the thought.

"You must have given him a good screw the first time if he came back for seconds." She giggled to herself, the squeal ringing in Zexion's ears.

"Back the fuck off about it." He snapped into his headset, and the giggling tapered out.

"God are you sensitive," she sighed, "and if you weren't so damn good at your job, I would have fired you for your piss-poor attitude long ago."

"Lucky me." Was all he said before ending the call. He pulled off his headset and rose from his chair, running a hand through and mussing up his silvery hair. Once again, he had avoided revealing anything about himself to this Demyx fellow, but he had learned a lot about the other man; he came from a poor family, he liked to swim, he had a fear of heights, and that when he was five he had gotten lost at the mall for an entire day.

And now that Demyx knew how to get a hold of him, there was no telling when he would call next or how often. Or even at all. For some reason Zexion could not rationalize, he did not like that idea. His job was sex. Sex was going to pay for him to read. His job was not to raise the self esteem of anti social college students. But he found that he enjoyed talking to Demyx more that he would allow himself to admit, and the thought of never talking to him again made him feel slightly melancholy.

"Good God, I don't even know the guy. He could be a serial killer for all I know." Zexion slapped himself upside the head. "It doesn't make sense."

He tried working on his homework for his advanced calculus, but he couldn't focus on numbers or algorithms. The only thing that managed to permeate his thoughts was this mysterious Demyx. He wondered what he looked like. Probably blonde, with some outlandish hairstyle typical of a rockstar. Something about the way he spoke alluded to intense eyes, green or blue, or maybe even a combination. Skinny, definitely, as performers always starved themselves for their art.

He found himself wondering what Demyx thought of him; does he think I'm a freak? Cool? Sexy? Zexion shivered a little and rid himself of the thought. None of it mattered, and if Demyx called again, he'd lie and say that he wasn't allowed anymore free time to chat. Business was business, and his business was phone sex.

* * *

Please review, it is my bread and butter :) And I'm always looking to improve. Stay tuned for the next chapter!


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